I am not in a good place. And that is an understatement.
I realize some of this is hormones and some of this is life circumstances but seriously, I am sick of myself. From my bullshit. From my negative self-talk. From my self-fulfilling prophecies. From my rescue complex. From my inability to LET IT LIE.
This is where it gets sticky- having a blog and not being able to blog about what’s happening. Do I tell you some funny anecdote or post a meme or just leave my fat post up for three more days? Because the line between what is happening to me and what is happening to other people is fuzzy. So I try to keep my mouth shut and instead what winds up happening is, I completely shut down.
I’ve been to this place before. Instead of opening up, I clam up. Instead of inviting people in, I close the door. Instead of just taking care of me, I take care of everyone else first and then realize that I’m all fucked up. Oh who am I kidding? I intrinsically know I am fucked up. And I’ve touted it as part of my overall charm.
My sadness and my anger about things that are NOT MINE are causing some sort of internal storm inside me. I have never understood the division between helping someone and enabling them. Thanks to being a child of an alcoholic, the line is very blurry. When I don’t help other people I feel like a big failure. And sometimes when I do help other people, I feel like a giant ass. So most of the time I feel like I just can’t win so why can’t I go live on a remote beach in Mexico selling tacos from a stand on beautiful sandy beach?
See what I did there? I didn’t let it lie.
The thing I need to comprehend is: I am only responsible for me. I think I need to go write that on the chalkboard about 1,000 times.